


Glass Window to Ennaia

by herooflegend



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, i forgot kieran at first how could i do that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-27 03:12:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18295670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herooflegend/pseuds/herooflegend
Summary: A collection of short drabbles I've written about my hunter Ennaia over the past several years.





	1. A Meeting on the Wall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ennaia meets with a rogue Hunter not long before the Red War.

The SIVA crisis had brought a certain renegade Hunter back into the walls of the City. Or rather, onto the walls. Crouched low, Kiara Vel scans the horizon with her bow held firmly in her grasp. With spring comes melting snow, and though Kiara’s boots are thoroughly sealed, she can almost feel the slush beneath her feet.

Not far away, Ennaia stands on the wall as well. Unlike her fellow wall-walkers, however, Ennaia’s eyes are not trained on the still-snowcapped mountains that eventually lead towards the Cosmodrome and the threat of the Fallen. Instead, she watches Kiara through the scope of her rifle. After a moment, she lowers the rifle and signals to Kieran:

“Renegade Nightstalker’s back. Zavala noticed, too. Thinks it’s cause of the Splicers. I’m not so sure.”

Kieran is quick to respond, using comms so that only his Guardian can hear. “Only one way to find out, bud. Go ask ‘er.” Ennaia sighs, but before she can sign a complete response, Kieran continues, “If you don’t, I will! And we both know how bad that’ll go.” On that, the two agree. Kieran is fantastic with civilians, and gets on fine with Enn nowadays, but his social skills with most Guardians tend to be... sub-par. Kieran thinks it’s because he cannot dance.

Ennaia gives another small sigh and continues softly along the wall towards Kiara. And though Enn’s talents in stealth are largely unmatched, so are Kiara’s perceptions. Which is to say, when Ennaia finally makes it within 10 feet of her, Kiara reflexively throws a smoke grenade. Enn knocks the grenade out of the air before it goes off and both watch solemnly as it descends into the grey sludge below.

Kiara speaks first: “So what brings a Hunter like you to the wall?”

Enn kicks a particularly large chuck of ice off the edge before replying, “Could ask the same thing, Vel.” The ice joins the smoke bomb on the ground.

Kiara rolls her eyes, and Enn notes that her helmet is lying on the ground several feet away. “Something's changing Ennaia, and it’s not SIVA.”

Enn nods along slowly. She knows precisely what Kiara speaks of. She knows, Deon knows, even strange and distant Arij knows. Whatever force the Awoken can tap into, it works like a warning bell. Like intuition and instincts amplified. When Enn closes her eyes to rest, she sees a wave of ships blocking the sky and feels the light drain from her body. She clenches her first tight around her gun and leans against the railing, trying not to fall. She reminds herself that Sjur Eido foresaw her own death too, and Sjur Eido did not die. Not then. She looks back at Kiara.

“Somewhere out there...” Kiara gestures to the sky, “...a balance has shifted. I could feel it from the Reef, I can feel it from Earth. I need to be here when it comes.”

“And what’s Venj have to say on the matter? Surely she knows.” The words are truly useless. Petra Venj knows and Ennaia knows that.

“I didn’t even have to tell her, friend. There’s something about those Wraths... I’ve heard stories of the first. They just know.” Kiara waits for Enn to respond, and when she doesn’t, continues, “Anyways, Petra’s prepared for whatever may come and she and I agreed on my station. I have to be here.”

Enn swings over the edge of the railing and prepares to jump. “Whatever is coming, it’s not coming for the Reef.” The second part of her statement goes unsaid, but both know it well. It’s coming for the Traveler.

Kiara gives a decisive nod before joining her companion on the railing. The pair make it to the ground and silently part ways for the rest of the season. When summer comes, both Hunters are there to see the City fall.


	2. My People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ennaia is the Hero of the Red War, but what does that even mean?

_I stood by the City in its hour of greatest need, and I will do so again._

_\---------------------------------------_

Enn sits on the railing on the top of the new tower with her eyes fixed on the traveler. The City has been retaken, Ghaul is defeated, and the Traveler is awake. She did that. With plenty of help, sure, but still. She did that. _I held a gun to Dominus Gaul’s head. I pulled the trigger._

“I pity you! You know nothing of sacrifice!” Ghaul had the nerve to say.

Enn had responded thus.

“It is me who pities you. I have died for my people. You will die only for yourself.”

Eighteen words and one golden bullet to the brain.

Enn does not often speak during battle. She does not often speak ever, actually. Make every bullet count, make every word count. Nothing Enn does goes to waste. Nothing is done without being worthy of being done.

Ghaul was not worthy of Enn’s words. Enn knows this. While directed at Ghaul, the words were for herself and the bullet was for her people.

It has been many long days and many even longer nights since then, but still she has one last question. One last score to settle, this time with herself instead of with Ghaul.

_When I said “my people,” did I mean the Awoken or the Guardians?_

Let her actions speak for themselves.


	3. Enn Io. Io Enn. Ennaio? Oh shut up, Deon.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ennaia ponders her love for the planet Io. Or rather, someone else ponders it for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This piece has the stupidest title and I am never changing it. Deon is Enn's best friend and he says dumb shit.

Ennaia, you always like things to make sense. Complexities have never been your style. No time to understand what can’t be understood. So, dear, why does this enigma of a planet feel so right to you? You need not even solve the sulfur ground beneath your feet and the Jupiter skies above your head, nor the Vex, or the Taken, or the Warminds. No, the Gensym Scribe does his job just fine. And you, Gensym Knight, do yours. You fight and you kill, and when the battle is done and always won you sit and you think.

All this strange in one place, all gathered under the same stars, there are answers in simply that. It makes sense. One anomaly is just an anomaly, but many? That is a pattern. You like patterns. And then still, that is not all. A simple pattern doesn’t make a home, not for you, Ennaia. Logic is not love.

Look inside yourself, Ennaia. There is so much to be found beneath your ground. There is so much that you do not show, and they know. Deon and Savvy, they know. Those who you would die for, who you have died for. Zavala and the City, who you know you would stand beside if the tower were to fall again. You know you feel for them. And Xalaia, oh Xalaia. You dare not even touch. You breathe the sun, yet nothing else has ever felt so bright.

Shoot your guns, dear Ennaia! Throw your knives, dear Ennaia! Raise hell, dear Ennaia! But understand that the passion that drives you is not always anger! Sometimes, it is joy. Sometimes, it is hope. Sometimes, it is fear and it is love. It is all those things that you do not understand, dear Ennaia. But you will. Just as you now understand why this heat under your boots feels a little like the heat in your own heart. This planet feels as you feel.

And that scares you.


	4. To Move the Hands of Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once upon a time, Ennaia and Jolyon were friends, but it has been many years since then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enn is wielding Hereafter in this for symbolism purposes. I think too much.

Somewhere in the Dreaming City…

High above the shore, a single tree grows out of a cliff face. Roots run along the stone, grabbing on where they can. Still, the tree leans precariously over a purple, stained glass gazebo that stands wonderfully intact right below. There, a small group is beginning to gather. Petra is there first, of course, leaning against one of the structure’s pillars and not too long after she is joined by two corsairs, Paladin Hallam Fen, and Jolyon Till the Rachis. 

Not far away, former-Crow Ennaia lays atop a rock that sticks out above the mists, barely visible. She watches the scene closely through the scope of Hereafter, waiting for the rest of the group to arrive before joining them. After an hour passes without sign of Deon or Paladin Kamala, Enn sends Kieran out to listen to the conversation down on the shore. Though she still has no desire to participate, the potency of her own boredom is at least enough motivation for her to eavesdrop. Kieran floats down and hides himself amidst some bushes. Classic. From there, he listens and sends the audio directly to Enn’s earpiece. Jolyon is telling a story of a mission Variks had sent him on in past months that had nearly gotten him killed. Petra is laughing, no doubt having been sent on similar tasks time and time again. Hallam doesn’t look particularly amused himself, but his pair of corsairs seem to be enjoying it fine.

Ennaia closes her eyes and listens to her old friend’s words. As much as she tries to focus on the story, she finds her mind drifting away with the mists. His voice carries her to a time long past, to some forgotten conversation between him, Uldren and herself. The details of that slip past her, even, and before long she’s standing in the Watchtower firing bullet after bullet into Uldren’s chest. Suddenly, she’s back in reality again, hand gripped tight around her sidearm.

She fires an entire magazine into the tree across from her.

Jolyon continues his tale, unphased.

The sound of the gunshots echo in her mind. No, they’re repeated to her. She’s in a cave. Before her, a wall of twenty perfect circles. The gunshots fire again. Twin snakes. Diving bird. Dragon. She tells herself that everything could be back to normal again if only she were to…

She throws her sidearm and it shatters against the cliff.

Jolyon stops talking.


	5. Missed Shots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deon tries to escape the judgement of more experienced Guardians and walks right into the judgiest one there is. Somehow, they become friends.

Today was another “practice day” for Deon. He’d like to have considered himself a reasonably seasoned Guardian by then, but he also knew that wasn’t quite true. Not yet anyway. Either way, Savvy had given him a few tips and things to work on with regards to his combat skills. He’d written them down dutifully, as he always does without fail. And Savvy had laughed at him, as she always does without fail. It was a shared joke between the two. They both suffered memory loss.

That particular tower had quite a few shooting ranges. With the number of Guardians presently inhabiting it, along with Guardians general love of guns, how could it not? Deon had spent enough time in all of them to know which Guardians used which at what times, which were the most or least frequented overall, etc. He had it down to an art, really.

Normally, he’d have headed to one of the more popular ones, as Deon is a social being, and could always use a little more advice. But today along with being a “practice day” was also a “down down day.” Deon didn’t need any more criticism when he was already giving himself plenty. So he headed to the emptiest one he knew of. It was older, and out of the way, and there was rarely another soul there aside from himself. That one, to Deon, was reserved for down down days.       

Sure enough, it was empty when he got there. He pulled out his notes from the conversation with Savvy and got to work. It was going surprisingly well actually, a rare gift. Can it really be a gift if it’s gifted yourself, to yourself? When the gift is the simple act of performing better than your battered self-esteem expects you to? Deon did not have time for these questions. He unloaded another clip from his rifle.

His not-at-all quiet peace was interrupted by the sound of the door behind him opening and another person entering the room. It was a Hunter, Awoken like himself, couldn’t be more than five feet tall, with cotton candy pink hair and markings that almost looked like freckles. He felt distinctly that, somehow, he was not the one being interrupted and instead was the one interrupting. Deon was not in the mood for talking, so he went about his business and tried his best to ignore the other body in the room.

It did not take long for Deon to realize that his goal of just ignoring the damn Hunter was going to prove more difficult than originally thought. The Hunter was not simply shooting things, as Deon was. They had a stopwatch out. They would activate their golden gun, fire off a couple perfect, perfect shots. And then they would stand there silent as the timer clicked away. And then again, another golden shot. Deon was quite familiar with the concept of timing your super, he’d tried it himself. You memorize the number of minutes before you could access just enough Light to let it flow, it was quite simple really. That was not what this Hunter was doing. No, this was some sort of training. Almost like training yourself to hold your breath for long periods of time. Training to access the Light as quickly and efficiently as possible. It was fascinating, in the way very deadly things usually are.

Finally, Deon could no longer stand the silence. Or rather, lack of words, for there was nothing silent about a shooting range.

“You’re training yourself to have less time between your golden guns.” He said it like a question. The Hunter stopped the timer.

“Sure. What would you call what you’re training to do?” they replied, in a plainer voice than Deon had imagined for someone so flashy. And snarky. They did not seem impressed.

“This is the exact reason I came to this particular place. So no one would be there to judge me. And yet here you are…” Deon said more to himself than to the Hunter. In fact, he didn’t really mean to say it aloud. Today was rough.

“I know the feeling.” The Hunter smiled, and it felt like blades. Damn this Hunter. Deon was going to try and be friendly whether they liked it or not.

“May I ask why the intense training of your Light? And why here and not in the field, or the Crucible? The Hunters I talk to usually prefer the wilds,” Deon rambled.

“You say ‘may I ask’ and then wait for no answer and ask anyways.” Deon was too tired think of a verbal response to that. He looked at the Hunter with the softest expression he could muster and prayed to the Traveler that they’d lighten up.

They sat in silence for a while, before finally the Hunter said, “Rough day.”

Deon knew this was the closest thing he would get to an apology.

“Fightin’ a Vex mind yesterday. Fired off a perfect shot only to realized too late it had a barrier up,” they continued. “Need to be better prepared for missed shots.”

“That’s not a missed shot, though,” Deon said. He was well acquainted with missing shots, and that was not it. “It hit. You couldn’t have predicted the barrier. Not on your own anyway.

The Hunter was not having that.

“Every shot that doesn’t kill is a missed shot.”

Deon was right to be fascinated. This one truly was deadly. Such is being a Guardian, he supposed. “You must have a very interesting take on life, if that’s your take on bullets.”

The Hunter shrugged.

Deon smiled for the first time all day, and his was warmth. “My name is Deon. Yours?”  
  
“I’m Ennaia. Friends usually call me Enn.”  
  
“You have friends?” Deon pretended to be shocked.

Enn sighed. “Well, it seems I do now.”


End file.
